nothing else makes you

feel waiting longer in time

than waiting for a bus to arrive

nothing makes a poet feel more

rejected than a chosen woman

who won’t react

to all his love poems

and having spent time between

sheets of cotton-clouds and

a wholesale store of words –

suddenly an unfortunate slip

on a porcelain floor

emerging naked from the

shadows of a temple’s inner


a priestess of aphrodite’s

cloud-cushioned bed

held up by seven muscular


nothing makes you feel more


than her sexual attentions

when just as much time had

been allotted for waiting

but it feels like cut in half.




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